Q Effect
by BoredZero
Summary: The right man in the wrong time can make all the difference. Well, apparently, I'm not, this isn't, and I have no idea what the hell I'm actually doing. Rating bumped up to M for mentions of nudity, sex, alien physiology, brutality and etc. Also featuring a protagonist that dies multiple times. Features elements from ST:Borg.
1. Is this real life or is this fantasy?

Disclaimer: This is fanfiction. I don't really need this here, do I? Oh, fine - I don't own Mass Effect, or Star Trek. Happy?

Secondary Disclaimer: This story was written out of boredom and is not to be taken seriously. Do so at your own risk.

_"Welcome to the Citadel. I'm Avina, the..."_

_"_Shut the hell up." I snapped, rubbing my temples. So much for a night in the bar, drinking. I told them it was a bad idea, but _noooo_ – they had to guilt trip me into it.

...Actually, I can't remember what happened after – but it must be bad if I'm hallucinating the Citadel from Mass Effect.

Great game, poor universe. Whole thing falls apart when you really take a look at things. I mean, really – how stupid do you have to be to believe your own theories and evidence to the exclusion of everything else? Liara had a perfectly correct theory and she got laughed out of academia for it.

Idiots.

Oh look, C-Sec – home of the overly uptight asses – no doubt from sitting on their own omni-batons...or blades. Or whatever the hell they use. Doesn't matter, they're the equivalent of London's finest in a Sherlock Holmes story – which is to say, wholly incompetent.

Fuck you, C-Sec – and your Executor, and your Councilor – the useless hacks. The only thing they're good at is whacking themselves off.

Too bad that's the one thing they can actually get right – would've been much easier on the galaxy if they just whacked themselves.

I looked into the Presidium Lake, wondering briefly if jumping into it would snap me back to reality.

"You're not hallucinating." A familiar, smug voice informed me. I turned my head to the left, and there stood a very familiar figure wearing a TNG uniform with four pips in command red.

"Oh great. Now I _know_ I'm going crazy."

"Why, because you think I only existed in that silly TV show? They didn't get a single thing right." He huffed. "Though I do admit they did a fairly good job of trying to portray moi – their choice of actor was most uncanny."

"You certainly sound like Q." I grumbled, looking back into the water. If I remember correctly, there's no fish in it.

"That's odd." He said, raising an eyebrow. "I would've expected at least one demand to return you to your own time by now."

"If this is a hallucination, then it doesn't matter." I replied. "Because that means you're also a part of my hallucination, and until I can be sure what's real and what isn't, there isn't much of a point." I paused. "And until I can know what's what for sure, it doesn't matter where the bloody hell I am."

He laughed. "How foolish. Interesting, but foolish. If you truly were hallucinating, don't you think you'd be a little hard pressed to see everything here in such great detail? Your computers are extremely primitive."

I thought it over briefly, before looking back down at the lake. I wonder how cold it is.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" He huffed, snapping his fingers. Next thing I know, I'm diving into the Presidium.

After I claw my way back up to the surface and back onto what passes for solid ground on a huge, hulking space station, Q popped by again.

"Was it everything you imagined?" He asked sarcastically.

"Actually, no." I replied, spitting out some water. Or what felt like water. I couldn't tell – there was no taste. I looked back into the water. Maybe if I drowned myself...

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Q repeated. "You humans are always so stubborn! Let me spell it out for you. YOU'RE NOT HALLUCINATING!"

"See, there's the problem." I said, folding my arms. "If I am hallucinating, and you're part of it, then naturally, you'd be trying to make me believe that this isn't a hallucination. On the other hand, even if I'm not hallucinating, you're Q. A known trickster."

Q rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe.

A few moments later, I blacked out – and woke up in what I could only presume was one of the hospitals on the Citadel.

No, wait – this is Dr. Michel's clinic, if the sign on the wall is to be believed.

"Believe me now?" Q asked irritably, popping in. "That's the first time I've had to asphyxiate someone to prove I'm me."

"Alright, fine." I replied, annoyed. "So this isn't a hallucination and you're really Q. That still doesn't answer the question of what the hell am I doing here."

"Oddly enough, you died." Q pointed out. "After you went drinking with your friends, your body apparently had a very rapid reaction to the alcohol and you died after a stray bottle of beer slammed into your head during a bar fight. It was kind of pathetic actually, given you were asleep on the bar minding your own dreams."

My eyebrow twitched. "So you're telling me that I'm dead because some jackass started a bar fight and I got hit in the head?"

"That sums it up, yes. At least Picard needed a replacement heart because he went down fighting. That was without a doubt, one of the most pathetic deaths I've ever witnessed. Anyway, back to the "why". That's actually very simple." He grinned. "I want you to show the galaxy exactly how stupid they are."

"What?" I asked sharply, surprised. "You want me to do...what!?"

"You heard me." Q replied. "I'll be watching. Oh, and...consider this a gift to get you on your way." He grinned, snapping his fingers and disappearing.

In my hands was a key to a safety deposit box to a bank somewhere on the Citadel.

I stared at it.

What would Q consider a "gift"?

I made my way to the bank in question. The clerk took one look at the key and gave me a weird look, but led me down into the big ass safe where they kept all the safety deposit boxes.

The box in question was a very large one – and it contained a rifle and a note on a thing that was about the size of a mini-USB reciever. Apparently, it's the Q-corder, version 2.0 according to the brief note that later disappeared the second I averted my gaze, I need to plug it into an omni-tool.

There was also something else in the box which resembled a small box. The moment I picked it up, a pair of tubules shot forth and imbedded themselves into my wrist and injected something.

Then, my world exploded into pain. Ridiculous, intense pain. I knocked myself out on the table by slamming my head into it.

Q tsked repeatedly.

"Really, was the best you could do?" He asked, shaking his head. "Picard got stabbed through the heart by a Nausicaan and _laughed_. "

Do I look like _Picard_? I'm not Starfleet!"

"That can go either way, really." He admitted nonchalantly. "Then again, it's kind of pointless to bring up Starfleet here. I didn't bring Starfleet here, I brought _you_ here as my own little agent of Chaos here."

"You brought a fat, unemployed college graduate into the Mass Effect universe where there's bound to be plenty of shooting, killing, and ship combat. Yes, _brilliant_ choice." I pointed out sarcastically. "Not that I don't appreciate the chance. I'm fairly certain you could've picked better."

"That's doubtful. Not many people would consider using a mutated super tribble as a weapon." He grinned. "Unfortunately for you, it would only turn on you and then go on to drown the entire galaxy in tribbles."

"So...you picked me because I had what my friends thought was a ridiculously asinine idea." I deadpanned.

"Well...partially. Oh, don't worry, _mon frere_ –I'm confident you'll pull this off. Besides..." He said, snapping his fingers, his Starfleet uniform gone and replaced with a drab blue suit and tie with a black suitcase. "The right person at the wrong time makes...all the difference."

He snapped his fingers. Time resumed, and I find myself in Dr. Michel's clinic.

Again.

"Twice in one day." Dr. Michel tsked, shaking her head. "You are a trouble magnet, aren't you?"

"You might say that." I admitted. "Sorry. I'm kinda knew here."

"I gathered, given the state of your clothing. Nobody wears those around here anymore." She pointed out. "Where'd you get them?"

"My closet." I deadpanned. "A century ago."

She laughed. "Funny."

"If you say so." I shrugged.

"Well, you're free to leave. The man who dropped you off paid your bill."

How nice. "Thanks." I said, leaving.

Great. Now all I needed was to figure out how to get credentials, some armor, credits...

Wait a minute. Where's my rifle?

My left arm decided to glow orange, covered in a holographic gauntlet. I brought it up so I could read the screen, which said "Authorization required."

I frowned, then reached into my pocket for the thing that looked like a mini-USB receiver and spent five minutes trying to figure out where to plug it in.

Once I found out it apparently didn't matter and just shoved the thing into the holographic interface, the chip disappeared and the screen announced that it was now bio-locked, meaning I was the only one who could use it.

An inventory screen opened up, and a voice in my head started to speak.

_"This is an automated pre-recorded message, so don't bother trying to wonder where I am. Since you're hearing this, you managed to unlock your Q-Tool. In short, I took the liberty of improving on the design a bit and gave it a massive upgrade. It can tell you anything you want to know about everything you want to know. Some entries you'll have to unlock of course, wouldn't want to make things too easy for you."_

The screen switched.

_"This is you, and all of your equipment. You'll note that you have three – this omni-tool, an implant and a transporter buffer. Both of them are specifically locked so you are the only one that can use them. They are also programmable with voice commands to do whatever you want them to do if you prefer to add some theatricality to your methods. As for the implant, that is a combination shield generator and medical implant. Try not to get killed."_

The screen switched again.

_"This is the inside of your transporter buffer and where all your stuff will be stored, like armor, weapons, loot, and your credits. You'll note that you have the TR-116 A and five thousand credits in your inventory. I recommend you equip the gun before you head off to your next task."_

The screen disappeared.

_"And finally, this is your heads up display, which operates on a neural interface. You can also pull up data on things here without having to open your omni-tool, among other things. I'll let you figure things out. This concludes the pre-recorded audio log."_

How nice of him. I flipped over to the transporter buffer and "equipped" the TR 116. I'd have to practice to figure out how to actually use it, though.

Ah well, there'll be plenty of time for that later. I looked down at my clothes.

Do I _really_ want to part ways with these?

...Eh, sure, why not? I went back to Dr. Michel's clinic and poked my head in.

"Oh. Back already?" She asked, worried.

"Nothing like that, Doctor. I just wanted to ask you if you knew a place where I could sell these."

She raised an eyebrow. "The museum might be a good place. They're always looking for 20th/21st Century antiques."

"And the museum is...where?"

"Just use the directory. " She pointed out. "Or you can access the public network and download the Citadel map. They're usually pretty good about keeping it up to date."

"Oh. Thanks."

I walked out of the clinic, and sighed.

Screw it. I'm not selling these. I brought up the date. September 5th, 2178.

I decided to go try my luck at Flux's, playing Quasar.

As I passed by the owner, the immediate thought on my head was...they look rounder in real life than they actually do.

So, I take a look at the quasar machines. Apparently, what passes for high stakes is approximately a hundred credits. Ah, what the hell?

I play a couple of rounds – lose a few, won a few. Even hit a perfect twenty a few times.

The end result? I walked off with a grand total of five hundred credits. Yippee.

I bellied up to the bar.

"Hey, welcome to Flux. What can I get you?" The red haired bartender asked, alluring smile plastered on her face.

...Yeah, Q was right – game doesn't do them justice. Now I can see why everyone liked Jenna the waitress – cute smile, great eyes, and her ample cleavage certainly helped her tips.

Oh yeah. She gets asked by one of the C-Sec people to go undercover at Chora's Den.

"Cola." I replied.

"One Cola, comin' up." She replied, reaching under the bar for a glass and plopped it – and a coaster in front of me and filled it up with the drink hose. "Two creds."

I make the appropriate transfer via Q-Tool.

"Haven't seen you around here, before. Just arrived?"

I picked up the glass, pausing just before I took a drink. "You might say that."

"Nice clothes. Where'd you get 'em?"

"My closet, a century ago." I replied.

She laughed. Why do people think I'm joking? "Funny. Might want to be careful about wearing those, though – some people might want to steal them off you."

"They can try." I replied wryly.

"If you say so." She replied, shrugging.

"So, what's there to do around here?"

"Well, obviously, there's the Quasar and the dancing. There's also Chora's Den – that's the local strip joint. There's the shopping." She suggested.

"Well, what about making a little money?" I asked, lowering my voice.

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Oh great, another merc. Look, if you're looking for that kind of crap, then head on over to Chora's Den, okay? That's one of the main spots where all the lowlives on the Citadel go."

"Great. Targets." I replied cheerfully.

"Well, C-Sec is a bit hard up for help, but I doubt you'd be able to pass in your shape. My boss Doran's hiring."

I shrugged. "I am a pretty good shot."

Again, she rolled her eyes. "Every guy who walks in here's a good shot, or so they say. Half of them couldn't hit that wall."

I shrugged. "Suit yourself. Think I'll go wander around."

"Thanks. Come back anytime." She replied, forcing a bit of cheer into her voice.

Well, I suppose I _could_ always go bounty hunting.

I took a trip down one of the hallways to the Markets – which were conspicuously empty.

"Hold it right there." A voice behind me snarled. "Turn around slowly and raise your hands." I felt a gun press into my back.

So, remembering what I read in that krav maga book about a situation like this, I turned around slowly, my hands halfway up, and then I snapped them up, sending the bastard's pistol upward. I don't think he was expecting that.

Before he could back up and create some space, I aimed a kick to the side of what appeared to be his kneecap as hard as I could and followed it up with an eyepoke. He screamed in pain as his hands...talons...things went for his eyes and blindly threw a haymaker. I tried to block it clumsily and wound up getting decked in the face.

And then I remembered I had a gun.

I raised my right hand, the TR 116 materializing in my hand, and pointed it at the guy's face.

I hesitated for two seconds and brought the stock across his face, knocking him out.

"Well, that went well." I huffed, collapsing against the wall as I became keenly aware of exactly how hard my heart was beating. I could feel it in my head.

I brought the Q-Tool up and used the phone function, calling C-Sec and sent them a message about what happened. Two minutes later and a pair of agents turned on – one turian, one human.

"You the one who called us about the assault?" The human asked flatly.

"No, I'm the guy who punched out this innocent turian who was just minding his own business and decided to report myself." I snapped irritably.

The turian whistled as he lifted the unconscious face and looked at it. "Well, this guy's certainly not innocent. He's wanted for at least a dozen armed robberies and a murder or two.

"Should've shot him instead, then." I muttered. A small medical sign appeared in the lower right corner of my HUD and it started blinking, and I felt the throbbing on my face from the bruise begin to fade.

"You probably should've. This guy's in with the local crime syndicates." The human officer sighed.

"Goodie. At least I'll know not to hold back next time." I snorted. "So, what now?"

"Now, we call in for a cleanup crew and bring you back to the station with us to answer a few questions." The turian officer announced, standing up. "I'm Officer Garrus Vakarian, and this is my partner, Arnold Books. What's your name?"

"Pierce. The name's Pierce."

So, after the cleanup crew showed up, they brought me into Garrus's office instead of an interrogation room, which was nice of them.

Also, on the way there, I briefly remembered that the possibility that I didn't exist in the system would soon come to bite my in the ass.

Well...he did say it could do everything.

Of course, just because it _can_ do everything doesn't mean crap if you have no idea what the hell you're doing. Thankfully, it would seem that Q also took care of that particular issue.

After the standard questions were done, they sent me on my way with an extra five thousand credits as bounty.

Ah hell, why not?

At this rate, I might as well look into buying a place somewhere here. Or a ship.

I paused midstep.

That was one of the biggest problems with this universe – ship technology. Or to be more specific, power generation technology. See, because the Council foolishly banned anti-matter research having deemed it "too dangerous" to use, everyone's been basically plodding along at fusion power.

Which is bullshit, because we were already making progress with regards to anti-matter containment back in 2013.

Which then got me thinking. What the hell happened to CERN?

Surely, they of all people when the call came to halt all antimatter research, resisted.

I decided to delve into the Q-Tool's databanks.

Apparently, they did resist.

And in the Council's infinite wisdom, they were...spirited away so to speak.

To protest this, I broke into the Human Ambassador's office and protested loudly and insistently that he explain why the hell humanity decided to agree to such a moronic notion.

To his credit, he entertained my arguments for all of the three minutes it took for C-Sec to arrive and "escort me" off the embassy.

Not like it stopped me from demanding answers.

I continued to pester the Ambassador's office until he finally left the office and stopped answering all my calls.

Once that was done, I went back down into the seedy underside of the Citadel to ask for more trouble. Because I figure the easiest way to figure out who the scum were was to make myself a target and see which poor sod decides to try and kill me.

Hey, if it's a human, maybe I can take his armor.

I paused and looked upward.

Of course, this would work a lot better if I didn't have to worry about snip-URGH!  
-

I opened my eyes and found myself in a white expanse with the sound of a beating heart everywhere, and a disappointed Q standing in front of me.

"I brought you here to raise chaos, not get killed. Try again." He shook his head in disappointment, snapping his fingers.

And once again, I found myself in the beginning of that hallway, just a few steps away from where I was "shot". My HUD even had a marker for that, overlaying a chalk outline of where I died when I stood with a little holographic sign that said "You died here from: Sniper Fire".

Gee, how nice of him.

I hid behind a stack of containers and brought out the TR116, and peeked out of cover with it.

Unfortunately, it didn't do me any good, because my hand wasn't steady enough to keep the rifle from swaying all over the place.

However, it did give me just enough time to catch a glimpse of a lens glint, and as fast as I could I dove for the nearest piece of cover.

Thankfully, the guy was just fifty meters away – at ground level. As I scrambled to get to the waist high wall without getting shot, I made a promise to myself to start training myself up, because the last time I had actually shot was five years ago. I was a very good shot then.

I was also in shape back then.

Doing the best I could, I popped out of cover with the TR 116 between what I hoped was his reloading cycle, found him, and pulled the trigger once and moved up again.

The round hit the piece of cover he was hiding behind, and then I discovered something rather important about this rifle I was using, because the round had gone right through the container they were hiding behind, and through their kinetic barriers, armor _and _themselves.

Damn.

Slowly, I walked over, keeping the rifle shouldered in case I needed to fire off another shot, and peeked over the top of the now mangled container.

I immediately recoiled from the horrifying sight for a few seconds before taking a steadying breath and crossed over to his side of the cover, and started searching for any loot I could find.

The only thing he had on him were a few hundred credits, a Mantis, and a bounty – no doubt issued by whoever was the employer of the other turian I popped the other day.

Deciding not to hang around, I walked away as calmly as I could, heading for the somewhat reputable area of the Citadel and checked into a hotel for the next three days for a thousand credits.

Deciding to put it off tomorrow, I did laundry and fell asleep.

The next morning, I decided to order some room service and spend the day reading through the numerous manuals Q had provided for me.

For instance, the shield/health implant he gave me only provided a "critical" shield, or in other words, as a last defense against death. It could also regenerate health, but that took a while for it to do, and it only had a limited charge.

In my case, it had no shield and the health regen was nearly depleted.

On the other hand, the Mantis rifle I picked up was now stored in my transporter buffer – which I was now reading the manual of.

It's operation was much like one would expect of a video game. Menu, slots, that sort of thing. My clothing even had some flavor text, courtesy of Q. He doesn't think too highly of my choice of clothing.

I moved onto the TR 116-A. Or as it was referred to in the menus, the TR 116A/Q, since it manufactured its own chemically propelled tritanium rounds. It featured the ability for a suppressor attachment at the front and a photon grenade launcher attachment.

Naturally, I had none of those, except for the standard "iron" sights.

The added text was, as expected, in Q fashion.

"_As you can already see, this weapon, although far more primitive and barbaric than the regenerative phaser will suit your needs far better. I could give you the numbers, but why bother? It's still far more advanced than any weapon you can find here. DON'T LOSE IT."_

"I don't suppose I can biolock you." I muttered.

The manual jumped towards the end.

"Well, that's maddeningly helpful." I quipped, proceeding to follow the instructions to biolock the rifle so only I can use it.

"Okay...now onto the Q Tool." I muttered, flipping to the manual.

Apparently, it came with many upgrade options, and it would be up to me to decide how to upgrade it. As for the actual upgrading, Q had apparently included a progress meter to the next upgrade "point".

Joy. I can't tell if this is his attempt at giving me familiar territory to work off of.

Since I didn't have to worry about the 116's ammunition count, I decided to put that aside and went on what passes for the internet (they call it the extranet) and looked up the price of a Mantis Sniper rifle.

Oh wait, this is before thermal clips. I checked the rifle again.

It was a Mark 2. The going price for a Mark 2 Mantis was about four thousand credits – slightly used, I could probably sell it for three.

I wonder if this thing can tell me where I can go to sell and buy this crap.

Q appeared. "It can, idiot. What part of "everything you want to know about everything you want to know" don't you understand?" He asked condescendingly.

"Sorry." I deadpanned. "I'm not used to omnipotent beings gallivanting across the universe, dragging me into what I can only assume is an actual reality where the game is real and handing me the equivalent of an omnipotent tricorder."

Q rolled his eyes. "Why are you so worried about selling the useless thing anyway?"

"Well, as I'm sure your omnipotent-ness already knows, this isn't the Federation. People still have to _pay_ for things." I said, walking over to my window.

Outside, below, I spotted a human-turian pair abusing a Quarian.

"I don't suppose I could ask you for a scope." I shrugged, sliding the window open.

Q slapped me upside the back of my head. "It _already _has one, you idiot – with a zoom up to a thousand. Hello? Most advanced weapon around? Oh, for heaven's sake. Did you not read the manual?"

"Well...not all of it." I admitted sheepishly.

He rolled his eyes. "Just use the scope and aim down the sights. You can set it to automatic and it'll zoom in for you or you can adjust it manually using these settings on the thumb switch."

"Ah, okay." I said, lining up the shot, feeling around for the switch. When I couldn't feel it, I looked on the side of the weapon.

"Q."

"Yes?"

"That's a track ball."

"So?"

"It's not a thumb switch."

"Sure it is. It's operated by your thumb and works like a switch."

I rolled my eyes and lined up the shot again, bringing it into the appropriate zoom level.

I held my breath and tapped the trigger guard three times before I slid my finger slowly onto the trigger and began slowly adding pressure-

"So, are you going to shoot?"

I exhaled, hanging my head. "Do you mind? I need to concentrate."

"Oh, yes, fine. Go ahead. By all means."

I lined up the shot again. Instead of doing all that crap, I just waited until it was lined up and fired. I quickly lined up on the second guy, who instead of running decided to look around. I fired a second time.

It blew his head off.

Job done, I retracted my rifle and closed the window.

"Interesting." Q said, raising an eyebrow, before disappearing from the room again.

That done, I returned to my manual reading.

A knock on the door interrupted me a few minutes later. Must be the room service.

I opened the door.

It was. Plus one Miranda Lawson, wearing her usual white with black trim catsuit.

I raised an eyebrow. "Pretty sure I ordered food, not a masseuse." I quipped. "Then again, I wasn't aware three headed dogs _had_ masseuses." I added. Well, there goes room service. No telling whether or not it's been poisoned.

Oh wait, there's a function for that on the Q-Tool. I scanned it. There wasn't, so I took it into my room. "You coming? I assume you're not here on a case of mistaken identity."

"Odd. How do you know of us, Mr. Pierce?" She asked inquisitively, closing the door behind her.

"Long story, which I doubt you'll believe. I'm guessing your here because of my long winded rants at the good Ambassador as to why the hell humanity decided to go along with the asinine ban on anti-matter research?"

"Among other things." She said carefully, leaning against the door and folding her arms underneath her ample bosoms. The catsuit only served to display exactly how large they were given the fact that the outline of her nipples were visible. Funny – didn't see that in game. "Though given your current state of physical fitness, I can't say the idea of recruiting one so...rotund as a Cerberus operative was a smart one."

"Can't say trusting your boss to look over your sister was a good idea either. You do realize that he'll be fuck buddies with your father in a few years once the shit's all hit the fan and the galaxy's scrambling to cover its own idiocy with too little too late? Hell, wouldn't surprise me at all if Cerberus is being bankrolled by your father."

Guess she's not as cold as I thought, what with the sudden pointing of her SMG at my head.

"How did you get that information?"

"Like I said, you wouldn't believe me." I shrugged.

"Try me." She snarled.

"Alright, here it is. I'm actually from the year 2013, whereupon passing out after one beer in a bar and getting hit in the head with a stray beer bottle flying as fast as it is humanly possible to throw one, I was then relocated through time and space to this place, which, coincidentally, exists in my original dimension as a video game where you, among others, are important characters in said game." I deadpanned.

She looked at me incredulously, lowering her gun momentarily. "You're right, I don't believe you."

"How's Orianna?" I asked.

She froze, and raised her gun again. "How did you know her name?"

"Because in 2186 in the video game Mass Effect 2, your loyalty mission involves meeting up with a friend named Niket to smuggle your sister safely out of your father's clutches...again. Or to keep her out of your father's clutches. He will wind up betraying you and will in actuality, fall for the bullshit he's fed about returning her because you stole her in the first place. You eventually put her in the "safe" hands of Cerberus and the Illusive Man, which personally, considering your natural intelligence strikes me as a very blonde move." I summed up nonchalantly. "I mean, really, trusting your "boss" with your precious sister knowing eventually you're going to have to go against him."

Of course, while I was doing that whole spiel, I was hurriedly flipping through the Q-Tool options to see if there was anything in there to create a dampening field to disable eezo.

There was, thankfully. I activated it just a split second before her trigger finger moved.

"What?"

"Yeah...that won't work in here. Mass effect dampening field. Little gift from the omnipotent prankster that dropped me here. By the way, your father's an ass. I can honestly say you'd be doing everyone a favor if you just offed him early." I added, putting an arm on her shoulder. "Don't get me wrong – Mr. Harper had _almost_ the right idea, but for all the wrong reasons."

"Oh really?" She snapped, moving away from em. "And what are the right reasons?"

"Well, that's kind of hard to explain, given how stupid some of humanity's decisions have been up until now. I don't suppose Star Trek exists..."

"It does. What does an old TV show have to do with anything?" She demanded.

I looked towards the ceiling. "I don't suppose I could convince you to make an appearance."

Q appeared. "Why, certainly. It's of no trouble at all." He grinned, reaching for Miranda's hand and kissing the back of it. "Enchanté."

"Miranda Lawson, meet Q. First appeared in Star Trek The Next Generation in-"

"Encounter at Farpoint. I know." Miranda replied, shocked. "That's Q."

"Yep." I nodded cheerfully.

"That's...Q!"

"I think you may have broken her." I said to him.

"Well, it was your idea." He pointed out. "Not that I'm against it. I imagine most in your position would've opted for the subtle route."

"Subtly isn't going to stop the Reaper invasion. We need antimatter reactors, not this penny ante fusion crap. And seriously, which Leviathan thought it'd be a good idea to develop an AI to come up with a solution to figuring out why their worshippers kept killing off themselves whenever they discovered AI?"

"On this point, I can say that you humans _normally_ approach the subject with far greater intelligence than..._here_." He said.

I sighed. "And to think, in 2013, we were making such good progress in science. Cancer treatments, naval railguns, electromagnetic catapults, antimatter containment..." I turned to Miranda. "More to the point, I didn't think you _were_ a Star Trek fan what with being in Cerberus and all."

"I saw a few episodes." She muttered, hiding her embarrassed blush.

Q grinned, and snapped his fingers, and disappeared.

"Now then, will this be the usual five minute Cerberus recruitment speech, or would you like to pay for the full half hour?"

She turned on her heel and bolted from the room.

"Well, that went well." I said dryly. "Alright, Q, where's the nearest weapons dealer I can offload this craptacular Mantis of off?"

A little blue line showed up on my HUD on the floor, showing me where to go. "Neat."

I followed the little blue line and found a small shop owned by a Krogan. We exchanged pleasantries and I offloaded the Mantis on him for a measly two thousand and five hundred credits, but on the upside, he did offer to keep me apprised of any "jobs" that need doing.

"Say, Q – are you a figment of Q, an AI based on Q or a direct line to Q?"

"_All three, depending on my mood. Why do you ask?"_

I paused, moving away from the omni-tool momentarily in surprise. "Wasn't expecting that." I muttered. "I ask because I'm wondering if you have any ideas on what I should be doing. Or is this one of those "I want to see what you do" type deals?"

"_Correct. Have fun._"

"Well, I don't suppose you can give me a list of all the major scumbags on this station. Particularly slavers."

_"I could. Why?"_

"I need money and they have it. Plus, they're slavers."

_"Very well. Try not to die."_

"I won't have to worry about it as long as I can snipe them from far away. But first..." I started, looking down at my gut. "I need to train."

_"I was wondering when you'd ask for that. Initiating Training Scenario Alpha – basic combat._

"What?"


	2. Faking It for Fifteen MInutes and a Date

Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect or Star Trek. Obviously.

Technical Notes Section:

Q-Tool: An upgrade from the tricorder I gave to Cadet Furlong during the supposed loss of the _USS Righteous _at Wolf 359, this tool can tell its user everything and anything they wish to know, and do anything the user wants it to do - provided it's in the right mood. The only reason why Pierce hasn't yet, is because his puny mortal mind hasn't thought that far ahead yet.

TR 116-A/Q: A unique version of an old Starfleet weapon it decided to shelf in favor of the regenerative phaser, this model comes with a mini-replicator that replicates thirty caliber tritanium composite slugs. As a result, its power is far greater than any of these puny pea-shooter mass accelerator weapons on the market. Comes with an optical sensor capable of over a thousand times zoom, and can be set to automatically correct itself to increase accuracy. This feature of course, has been disabled - because, what fun would that be? Can be fired loud or suppressed. May be fitted with a bayonet lug.

Q Shield/Health Implant: Some cheap thing I gave Pierce, providing he can get it working. It's regeneration abilities are limited and only work when it's powered. Same with the shield.

* * *

"What?" I blinked, looking down at the Q-Tool. It didn't do anything else other than announce the beginning of a training session, which had me confused.

Deciding to shrug it off, I continued on with my search for a gym on the Citadel and a cheap place I could rent instead of wasting all my money on hotel fees.

What the hell is Q up to anyway? I was half-expecting to be shanghai'ed into joining C-Sec or the Systems Alliance Navy, or even worse, transported to Shanxi during the invasion.

...Then again, if he did that, there's a good chance I'd just be screwing with the timeline even further, because there's no way in hell I'd let the enemy fleet commander carry on with such an idiotic crusade to punish a first contact situation with his own arrogance, ego and his own moronic element. Unfortunately, we don't have a word to properly describe the "moronicness" of a person, and have to use other words such as "idiot", "dumbass" and the like. I wonder if there's a word for it in Vulcan. Or Klingon.

Or even in whatever the hell the Jaffa speak. Heeheehee...I wonder if anyone realized that they share their name with a pastry.

...Damn, now I want cakes. Ahhh! Focus, damn it! You're supposed to be _losing _weight, not tasting intergalactic pastries and cakes.

I turned a corner, and started walking down a hall. I heard footsteps behind me, and turned around – just in time to watch a fist smash into my face.

* * *

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that this was most definitely not the Citadel anymore. It was much colder.

The second thing was that there was a collar around my ankle. Given its size and shape, it's probably set to detonate if I wander outside of the approved area, or if some asshole decides to blow off my leg for no goddamn reason.

And thirdly, this looked like a mine of some sort.

"You're awake." A raspy voice spoke. "Don't try to move too quickly, your body is still metabolizing the drugs they gave you to keep you under."

"Where?" I asked curtly, looking up at the rocky ceiling.

"No idea." The voice replied. "All I know is that we're somewhere in the Terminus Systems."

"Great." I grinned weakly. "Now I know where my targets are."

"You're insane."

"I know. Isn't it great?" I grinned, forcing myself to an upright position and checked for my gear. Surprisingly, they didn't take my omni-tool. "Huh. I would've expected them to have at least taken this."

"There's no need. The only way off this place is on one of their ships, and as long as their fleet is out there guarding the place, we won't ever get off this rock. Plus...there's the ankle bombs." I finally turned to face the other half of the conversation. It was a middle-aged woman, dressed in rags.

Not bad, Q. Now, if I can figure out a way how to take this rock for myself. And maybe steal one or two of their ships and use them as missiles against their own ships.

I wave my omni-tool over my ankle bracelet, and scanned it.

"Don't do that!" She warned. "The last person who tried to disarm them had their leg blown off."

The Q-Tool told me that it was tamper proof, had a remote detonator and as I suspected, detonated outside of a certain barrier – and the added attraction of being a shock bracelet as well. It gave me several options – several of which were greyed out because "I didn't have the necessary experience".

Damn. Guess I'm not touching that for a while.

"Okay. How do I get this thing off me?"

"You don't." She whispered, eyeing the big ass digital clock. "You're stuck here like the rest of us, for life."

...Well, I was planning on training myself to lose some of this weight. What the hell?

"Alright. I'll leave it alone. For now." I replied, the nausea disappearing. I slowly got to my feet. "Well, what do we do around here?"

"What do you think?" She asked. "We do whatever the hell they tell us to do until we die."

"Break's over! Get back to work!"

She slowly climbed to her feet. "Here we go again."

Oh boy. I can only imagine what lies in store.

* * *

It's been three fucking months, and I can honestly say that I hate Q with a passion right now. I can now understand Dr. Bashir and Chief O'Brien's desire to kill Worf during their Klingon bachelor party now.

All that heavy labor and abuse has rid my body of its fat, returning it to its once athletic shape during my junior year in high school. The woman who tended to me when I first arrived died last week.

She took her own life after being gang raped by the guards, which pretty much cements their fate as soon as I figure out how to kill them all without killing_ us_ all.

I've been reading on everything the Q-Tool could teach me in terms of demolitions and cyberwarfare, doing the little tests it threw my way. Took me a long bloody while to start passing them, but now I can do them easily.

Hell, I've been walking around with a deactivated bomb on my ankle for the last half month.

Problem is, there's at least fifty of them, one of me, and two hundred plus slaves in _this_ sector. There's three others – totaling at least two hundred guards. According to their database, they've got four ships – one actual cruiser stole from the turians and three repurposed freighters. The three freighters are typically docked unless they're out on a run, and the cruiser stands guard. Apparently, it's named the Sevvig.

It's armed with the usual – kinetic barriers, standard hull armor, GARDIAN lasers and mass accelerator weapons, with a crew of sixty two.

And with the Sevvig pulling into dock for maintenance, the trick would be rendering the Sevvig useless while I made my move on the base.

Or, killing everyone without tripping off an alarm.

The easiest way to do that would be to lock them in their dorms and cafeterias and then vent them. That would require disabling the station-wide alarms and setting the computer to fake normal activity. The Q-Tool could easily simulate that.

The explosive bracelets wouldn't be a problem in my sector since I've been disabling them secretly while leaving the lights on. But since I can't tell everyone to "pretend" to be shocked when they're turned on, I've had to unfortunately, leave that on the majority of them. At least that way, they'll look like they're working, but they're not.

Hm...I could always spike the guard's food supply with laxatives.

That would lay nearly all of them low since they all have to eat at some point. But that'd pass relatively quickly, and unless I could kill them all fast enough it wouldn't work. Plus, the ship would probably send an armed guard force to the command center, and if they get a whiff of a rebellion, they'll blow all the bracelets. That might not affect us, but it will the other sector on the other side of the base.

The Q-Tool beeps angrily at me. Apparently, it thinks my plans are stupid.

Alright fine, then. What the hell do you have?

The words "fire drill" pop up. Understanding dawns on me, and I smack myself in the head for being so stupid.

Of course. In a fire drill, the guards all assemble in pre-designated areas and keep their shit fire-free while leaving us slaves to fend for ourselves. Since we're surrounded by rock, it doesn't really matter – save for the airlocks they have installed to vent the place any time they want.

Thing is, the base is comprised of numerous sections, and in case of emergency, those sections can be jettisoned.

Trigger the fire alarm, and the majority of the slavers will gather in several assembling areas, which can then be jettisoned, eliminating the majority of the guards.

Wait, I can't do that – the Sevvig will just open fire.

I need to incapacitate the guards, ensure the slaves don't get blown up or vented, then take the ship, _then_ the station.

Geez, this is harder than I thought. They make things look so easy in all the games and shows.

Okay. So, trigger the fire alarm, deactivate the bracelets, take the computer, steal onboard the cruiser, take _it_ over, then deal with the guards.

There's just one problem. I need to get the hell out of here without being seen.

Well...there is _one_ way, but (and this is absolutely horrible) I need to wait for one of them to come by for another one of their "sampling" visits.

I clenched my teeth as I watched a group of them walk in with their usual swagger, grabbing two of the women and dragging them off to the rooms in the slave area just for this purpose.

I _hate_ being surrounded by all these assholes and not being able to kill any of them. Bloody slavers. When I get out of here...

Calm down, idiot! Don't give yourself away.

I re-focused my efforts on my work. I needed a lone human slaver, not a group.

Three agonizing days later, and my chance had arrived. I recognized him – the one the other guards called "Rock". He grabbed one of the asari – a new arrival unfortunately, and took her into the room to be "broken" in.

I waited a few minutes – I needed him to be too busy to notice me before I snuck into the room.

He had strapped her down to a table, spread eagle, still clothed – just staring at her, running his hands over her body. Oh goodie, he's unlocked the "toy" cabinet. I didn't even bother looking in on it. Instead, I materialized an omni-blade, cranked up the temp and shoved it into the base of his brain. It killed him instantly and he dropped to the ground the moment I retracted it.

Which left me with a frantic, strapped down asari to deal with.

Naturally, she started screaming futility since the guy shoved a ball gag in her mouth for which I was thankful.

Ughhh...horrible thing to be thankful for right now.

I eventually calmed her down and undid the straps.

"Listen. I need you to do something for me. It's very important." I said to her.

She composed herself, and nodded. "Name it."

"I need you to fake it for the next fifteen minutes." I requested, waving my omni-tool over her neural inhibitor and bomb bracelet, disabling them.

She closed her eyes, shuddering in a moment of brief relief as her brain was no longer operating muffled. "Thank you." She sighed in relief. "I'll do my best, but you'll owe me."

"Good." I said, undoing the armor on the now dead guard. Perfect – my size. I took his weapon too, looked like a Mark I Avenger. Great. Piece of shit gun. The only thing it's good for is for use as a club or a high powered seasoning device. Load this thing up with peppercorns and you've got one hell of a pepper gun.

Once I finished gearing up and she made herself comfortable on the table, I faced the wall and proceeded to tune out the next fifteen minutes or so.

...Okay, so I peeked. Like you wouldn't.

Once time was up, she tapped me on the shoulder, face blushing and breathing heavily. "Now what?"

"Now, we go back out there and you don't tell anyone about me." I said. "Sorry about this." I added, as I prepared to drag her out of the room again.

"It's fine." She admitted, shaking her head. "My name's Talia, by the way."

"Pierce." I replied. "Let's get this show on the road. I said, snapping on the helmet.

I dragged her out of the room, said a few things and dumped her outside.

Unfortunately, several of the slaves decided then and there to grow some balls and attacked me with several makeshift shivs.

It wasn't until they removed my helmet did they realize that they just stabbed one of their own.

I took great pleasure using my dying breath to remind them all how stupid they were in killing the one person who was actively working to get them out. Idiots.

And then I was back in that great white expanse.

* * *

"Yes, brilliant performance. You got killed by the very people you were trying to save. Great performance art. A perfect embodiment of the principle of irony." Q clapped and cheered. "Now go do it once again. With FEELING!" He declared.

* * *

Now, I'm back in the room, preparing to exit with Talia in hand.

I checked the schematics on the Q-Tool, locating the nearest medical bay.

"How good are you at acting?" I asked her.

"I've never done it before. Why?" She asked, confused.

"I'm going to need to hold you hostage temporarily so I don't get killed by the other slaves out there. Pretend like you're hurt or something and I'm taking you to the medical bay."

"I think I can do that." She said hesitantly. "You know, normally, I don't do this without a few dates." She said, trying to inject some confidence in her voice and failing. It came out with a lot of waver.

"When we get out of here alive, I'll take you on one." I replied. "Let's go." I said, poking her in the back withe rifle. "Sorry about this."

She gave me a flimsy smile, took a few breaths and then started crying – the kind of crying you hear from a broken person.

Damn, she's good.

Once we made it to the medical bay, I lay her down on one of the beds and call the doctor over. "Fix her up so I can keep fucking this worthless slave." I sneered.

"Yeah, yeah." The doctor, a human, complained. "Sick bastards." He snapped, running his omni-tool over her.

I spotted the camera over in the far corner of the room, so I took up a position opposite the good doctor and blocked it with my back.

Once I was in position, I spoke quietly. "Listen to me very carefully. I'm going to leave this room. I need you to go over to your desk and study your notes for a few seconds so I can loop the camera, and then I'm going to come back."

I depolarized the helmet so he could see my face. His eyes widened imperceptibly.

"I'll be back in a few. Gotta go take a leak." I said, heading to the bathroom.

I returned to the sick bay after my leak, setting the loop before I re-entered the sickbay. The moment the door was closed, the doctor turned to me and asked eloquently "What the hell are you doing? You're going getting to get us all killed."

"One moment." I replied, waving my Q-Tool. "There, I've disabled your bomb. Now, all I need to is to turn the light back on so it looks like it's still active, and then I need to trigger a fire alarm."

"What are you doing in a guard uniform?" He demanded.

"Preparing my great escape? Well, I say escape. It's really more like a one man hostile takeover." I admitted. "First, I need to tap into the control center and trigger a fire alarm. Or tap into the control center and disable the bracelets."

"That sounds like a better idea." He stated impatiently. "Considering how many people would be grateful to keep their foot. Do you really have a plan or are you playing this by ear?"

"I have an actual plan, relax." I replied, checking the assembly areas again. That'd get most, but then there's the DC teams to deal with.

Wait, I'm supposed to trigger a fire drill, not alarm. In case of a drill, everyone reports to an assembly area and waits for further orders.

Because they're idiots.

So I trigger the drill and once my Q-Tool indicates they're all in, I locked them into their sections and set up security fields around them.

Once that's done, all that's left to do is to clear out the command center, which is in the center of the base.

A short jog and two discreet stabs later, and the room was cleared.

You'd think they'd protect these things more.

Oh good, the ship's still docked. I activated the remote sensors, picking up just a handful of life signs.

Later, I'd discover that most of them were in the assembly areas. Not that I give a crap. I activated the docking clamps and locked down the ship systems using the hardline.

A few bullets later (my aim has improved nicely), and now all that's left to do is to jettison those guard bastards from this station.

Aaaaand done.

I disabled the bracelet system, causing all of them to automatically unlock themselves.

"Attention, all personnel. My name is Pierce. You're welcome. If you haven't noticed already, I've disabled the bracelets and all the guards are gone." I said over the PA system. "Each sector, please send a representative to the command center so we can deal with this in an orderly fashion. We're not out of the woods just yet."

Well, that's done. Now comes the other problem – the _other_ bastards who own this station – and eight hundred slaves. I began accessing the station's computers for any information on the people behind this whole operation.

I turned to the six other people in the room. Two doctors, four representatives.

"So, that solves the housing problem for now. We still need to figure out how to get out of here."

"Why?" One of them demanded. "We've got ships, we've got pilots! Why can't we just get in them and ferry everyone back into Citadel space?"

"We could." I nodded. "And everyone who wants out can leave. But I'm keeping the cruiser. I've got a bone to pick with the bastards who run this outfit."

"You want to take on the Syndicate? You're fucking crazy."

"He also got rid of two hundred guards and took over this entire place single handedly." The Doctor from before snapped. He reminds me of Bones.

"You want to start ferrying people out of here, then put together crews and passengers for the freighters, but not until we can figure out if it's safe for them to head for the relay."

"Then escort them with the cruiser!" They snapped.

"That'd leave the station wide open, and I'm not going to let them take it back. I've always wanted an asteroid base." I replied airly.

"You're insane."

"I thought we covered this already." I frowned. "Well? Get to it. If you don't want to stick around, then put together crews and passengers. Everyone better fit on those freighters though – I don't think you want a return trip. Doctors, same applies to you. You can go with them if you want."

The other one did. Bones, on the other hand, decided to point out something.

"Actually, this _is_ the Syndicate." He said. "All they have is this station, those ships, and us. You actually killed him already."

"I did? Damn." I cursed. "Maybe I should've shoved a peanut or two down his throat first. Well, what the hell? In that case, we're_ all_ getting off this rock. I need to get a crew together though." I added as an afterthought.

"You could probably turn him in for the bounty." Someone suggested. "They _are_ wanted by C-Sec. Well, were."

"Alright. New plan." I declared, slamming a fist into my other hand in a "eureka" gesture, activating the station wide PA.

"Attention, all personnel. Anyone with experience onboard starship, please report to Guard Cafeteria Alpha. Repeat – anyone with starship experience, please report to Guard Cafeteria Alpha." I turned off the mic. "We'll take the Sevvig and run escort." I paused, turning the mike back on. "Talia, please report to the command room. Talia to the command room. You know who you are."

"Well, regardless, I'll stick with you for a while." 'Bones' replied. "I used be Alliance until these bastards grabbed me. You're going to need a doctor."

"Thanks, Doc." I nodded.

"Well, better get situated then." He decided. "See you onboard." He said, walking off.

"Well, you heard the plan. You run, we'll cover. Set course for the Citadel." I ordered.

The representatives nodded, returning to their respective sectors to deliver the news and work out the passenger manifest. It'd be a tight fit, but I think they'll be willing to put up with it for the chance to get back to the Citadel.

Talia walked in shortly after. "You called?"

I nodded. "Do you know how to get in touch with Aria T'Loak?"

She frowned, narrowed her eyes and folded her arms. "Why ask me? Is it because I'm asari?"

"Actually, yes." I nodded. "Considering I know she has connections with Councilor Tevos and several Matriarchs. Can you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes." She muttered. "What do you want with her?"

"Just to send her a message about this rock."

"...You want me to send a message to Aria T'Loak to tell her about this rock?"

I shrugged. "I figure the Queen of Omega would want to at least know about it."

She stared at me for a few seconds. "You...you're a very interesting human."

"Some might even say insane." I shrugged. "I don't suppose you have starship experience?"

"No, but I _do_ have asari commando training. I'm still pretty young, though."

"Let me guess. A hundred seventy?"

"Close." She eyed me suspiciously. "Why?"

"Putting together a ship crew for the cruiser. We're going to run escort duty for the freighters and the rest of the slaves until we get back to Citadel space."

"And then?" She probed.

"I'm going to take the ship for myself, of course." I paused. "Unless the turian military want their ship back. Then I'm going to demand they at least pay me so I can build my own ship." I paused again. "Well, after I find out what happened to the scientists of CERN. I want their antimatter research."

She recoiled. "Antimatter research is banned by Citadel law."

"Fuck 'em. What the hell do they know?" I snorted. "Yes, let's open fire on a completely unknown ship fiddling with a mass relay because they're violating Citadel law! No exceptions! Not even if they have no clue about our laws, because ignorance of the law is not an excuse! Graah!" I mocked. "Seriously, like I'm going to trust a bunch of idiots who decided to move into a huge hulking space station that looks like a gigantic mass relay when closed and credit it to the Protheans." I rolled my eyes. "Like the Protheans could've built the entire mass relay network. Bah!"

"You seem pretty sure of yourself."

I removed my feet from the desk and closed the distance between us. "Consider this – every "credible" academic attributes all this crap to the Protheans just because everything they've found indicates Prothean origin everywhere. There's only _one_ out there who believes otherwise, and the only evidence that she's wrong is the absence of evidence to back up her theory."

"So? I don't see the problem."

"The problem is that there's a _complete_ lack of evidence. You'd think by now they'd realize something's wrong because nobody's matched them against the Citadel. Or go searching through the Prothean Archives on Mars or Thessia. Seriously." I complained. "I'm _so_ disappointed in humanity. How the hell can they possibly have an intact Prothean Archive and _not_ skip to the end to see how it turned out?"

"What are you talking about?" She demanded.

"If history holds up, you'll find out in about four years when a supposed Geth battleship and attack fleet hits the Citadel.""

"Supposed?" She repeated incredulously. "Prothean Archive on Thessia? What the hell are you talking about?"

I looked at her for a moment and then sarcastically facepalmed. "Oh, right. You people don't know about that. Well, surprise! You Asari are only the most technologically superior because your government keeps a working Prothean Beacon in one of your most sacred churches in plain sight."

"How the hell do you know all this?" She demanded.

"You wouldn't believe me." I shrugged. "But we're getting away from the important things right now."

"Which is?"

"Whether or not to loot this place crazy before leaving, of course." I said.

Wait. Damn it!

I facepalmed for real this time.

"What now?"

"The Archives on Mars! How the _hell_ did I forget about that?" I exclaimed suddenly. "Ah well, that'll come later. So, you joining or what?"

"If only to figure out the reasons behind your insanity, yes." She replied slowly.

Enough for a full crew showed up. Less than half would be staying on afterwards if we kept the ship.

* * *

The run back to Citadel Space was uneventful.

Our arrival back at the Citadel however, more than made up for it.

As usual, the turians jumped the gun and assumed we were the same barefaced idiots who stole the ship in the first place. Therefore, they fired a warning shot and then immediately ordered us to surrender and heave to. Thankfully, when we followed them into spacedock, it was Garrus and Andrew that met us at the airlock.

The airlock opened. Garrus had opened his mouth to deliver the usual warnings, rifle at the ready, but slowly lowered it when he realized he was pointing it at me.

"Pierce?" He asked, puzzled. "What the hell are you doing on the Sevvig?"

"I spaced two hundred slaver bastards and shot a couple more, took their stolen ship and escorted those three freighters your people think belong to pirates. Jumping to conclusions in true turian fashion." I deadpanned. "I thought Citadel Security was a police force."

"We're supposed to be." Andrew grumbled. "Fucking Executor Palin. The press are just going to _love_ this."

"Yes, the brave and gallant officers of Citadel Security, protecting the innocent from..." I paused. "Oh wait. You people almost blew away three ships of freed slaves who escaped from the Terminus Systems!" I snapped, yelling at who looked like the C-Sec guy in charge. "Dumbass! Do you have an empty space where your brain is?"

"You came into Citadel space onboard a known stolen turian cruiser!" He shot back.

"Right, because criminals are just _that_ dumb to head to the center of Citadel space with a _stolen_ turian cruiser and pick a fight with the Citadel Defense fleet. Get the fuck outta here, yah barefaced, split-chinned bird brain bastard!"

"You keep this up and I'll run you in for disturbing the peace!" He threatened.

"Please do." I deadpanned. "It'll make kicking your ass with the press oh-so-much sweeter. Dumbass."

In the background I can faintly hear a conversation taking place between Garrus, Andrew, Talia and Bones.

"Is he-"

"Yep."

"He's got balls, I'll give him that."

"He's insane is what he is."

"I'll attest to that medically. Man did took on the entire slaver force by himself."

As for the ship, well...

"Absolutely not! That ship is property of the Turian Hierarchy!" Executor Palin snapped.

"Which you lost because it was stolen from you, and then we recovered." I pointed out. "And there's no way in hell I'm letting you take it without so much as a bloody thank you considering all the trouble I had to go through to get it."

"You think I'm going to let a vigilante like you run off with an armed warship?" He growled.

"Hey, your people want your ship back. I get it. At least pay us for taking it back from the slavers and returning it."

"You must be stupid if you think we're going to _pay_ you for returning our property." He snapped.

"Like I give a damn what the hell _you_ think. And more importantly, why the hell are you still holding me?"

Palin smirked. "Ongoing investigation. I can't discuss it." He replied mockingly. "Take him back to his cell."

At least the turian who was taking me back to the cell apologized.

And this time, they took the omni-tool and transporter buffer.

I need to find a way to have them implanted.

Well...might as well get comfortable. I wonder what's going on right now.

It's been roughly twelve hours, and as far as I can tell, nothing's happened.

And then, sometime after my twelve hour nap, the cell door was opened. and the guard informed me that I had a visitor.

It was some Captain and the human Ambassador.

"You!" Udina pointed accusingly.

"Yes, me. You still haven't answered my questions regarding CERN's antimatter research." I pointed out.

"Antimatter research is banned by Citadel law!" Udina snapped. "Let's go. He's not worth our time."

"Alliance Command thinks otherwise, Ambassador." The Captain chastised. "I'm Captain Avery. On the behalf of the Alliance Navy, I'm here to offer you a deal."

"What kind of deal?" I asked, sitting up.

"You join us and we'll bail you out. You'll be put through a few tests and trained, but you'll be given the rank of Gunnery Chief and a choice of postings."

"And if I refuse, you leave me here to rot, right?" I snorted. "I think I'd rather assault Klendathu by myself."

"Klendathu?" Udina repeated. "What is he talking about?"

"It's a fictional planet from the novel Starship Troopers, sir." Captain Avery explained, turning back to me. "Why not? It's a good deal."

"Tell me then – is that novel still required reading for officer candidates?"

"Only for the Marines." Avery replied. "If you want in with the marines, that can be arranged. All we ask is you work for us and we'll take care of you."

I resisted the urge to laugh.

I failed.

"Let me this straight." I started in between heavy laughter. "You want me to work for the Alliance military? The same Alliance military that issues shitty armor, Avenger rifles and Kessler pistols to its N7 operatives? Bwahahahahaha!"

"I told you this was a waste of time." Udina snapped. "Enjoy your stay." Udina said coldly, before leaving, taking the Captain with him.

The guard gave me an incredulous look before closing the door again, shaking his head. "You crazy?"

"Pretty much, yeah." I replied, laying back down on the bed. I decided to go through some of the manuals I had read in my head.

Well, I _could_ go to the Mars Archive and reveal the fact that the Reapers are coming six years in advance, which might get them prepped when the time comes – but then the question came whether or not the other races would agree to help.

The Council keeps ignoring the Quarian's pleas for help because they created the Geth, and as a result, banned all AI on the grounds that they were dangerous.

Except people who played ME3 would know that the Quarians fired first on their creations, panicking when the Geth asked if they had a soul, which basically led to a fight the Quarians couldn't win against the Geth, who could simply upload themselves to new hardware – similar to the Cylons. Not a single quarian has wondered why the Geth never followed their ships or hunted them down despite the Geth's numerical and tactical superiority, and because it happened so long ago, every Quarian knows to blame the Geth for their problems – partially because of the Council, partially because of their ancestors.

You cannot treat an AI like a lesser being, because an AI is similar to us biologicals in terms of growth. To boil it down to the most basic level, we are all computers, and are more often than not the end result of "crap in, crap out", plus those few special characteristics given to us by our "hardware".

Of course, ever the brave defenders of the peace, the Citadel Council wisely decided to ban any further research on the matter because of what happened to the Quarians.

Geth aside, they're still being ginormous douche-bags leaving the Quarians out to dry like that, which is reflected in their treatment of Quarians on the Citadel.

Vagrant. Suit-rat. The law barely protects them and the lawless devour them for the sins of their ancestors. Not exactly a shining example of Citadel rule.

Well, to be fair – I _do_ have the benefit of knowing things they don't. Is this what it's like with Q?

...Now, what was I doing?

"Ooooh, spending some time in the cooler?" Q asked, popping in.

"Hello, Q. What brings you by?" I asked, shrugging.

"Just to see how you were doing. Your escapade through the slave mine was mildly interesting. And a bit cruel. You left all those guards trapped in a tiny metal box floating around by themselves."

"Hey, your tool rejected my other plans."

"Hmmm, yes. Edible explosives and/or laxatives. What were you thinking?" Q mused.

"Well, I _was_ thinking that most of them would be too busy trying not to shit their pants which would make me taking the place over easier."

"Except had you tried that, you would've only succeeded in making them angry and would've led to the jettisoning of all eight hundred slaves. Quite the opposite of what you were intending to do, I suspect."

I sighed. "True." I conceded. The last thing I wanted was to get them all killed.

"Well, then, what's your plan now?"

"I figure I'll just wait here for the press to catch wind of it. Either way, C-Sec's gonna look bad and I walk away." I shrugged nonchalantly. "Once I deal with this mess, I'm going to try and find the CERN scientists to get the antimatter ball rolling again. And ...then I'm going to try and build a starship. Without dilithium. Or diburnium. Or tritanium." I sighed. "Or phaser cannons or Federation shield technology."

"You disappoint me, _mon frere_." He shook his head. "You _almost_ impressed me. Still, I suppose for a bi-pedal life form, _almost_ is far more than most. At the very least, you are keeping things interesting. I don't think I've ever seen anyone blunder about like you have."

"I'm kind of dumb like that." I shrugged.

"Yes, well – I'm actually here to give you a progress report from your first training mission. Congratulations! You passed. And you only died once!" He grinned, snapping his fingers. Several people appeared in the cell wearing party hats, and Q had one of those party horn things, which he blew on.

Confetti rained down gently from the ceiling, and then came forth another Q, bearing a cake celebrating the fact that I only died once.

Shrugging, I reached for a slice of cake. Red Velvet – delicious. "Thanks. This is some good cake." I said appreciatively. "They haven't fed me since yesterday."

"Oh, finally – somebody took a piece." Q said happily. "You have no idea how hard I've been trying to offload that cake. Neither Picard, Sisko or Janeway seemed to appreciate it."

"Considering your trickster nature, I'm not surprised." I admitted, now actually thinking about it. "You didn't lace this cake with anything, did you?"

Q grinned mischievously. "Ah, _mon frere_, where would the fun be in telling you?" He snapped his fingers, and disappeared, taking his party with him.

It almost made me sad.

Shrugging, I leaned back onto the cot and started humming.

It takes them until the next day to actually question me, which they prod along and ask me all about my time at the mining facility and how I got there and how I got away.

Then they returned me to my cell.

A few hours after that, they walk in again and tell me I'm now being charged with the theft of a turian warship.

Fun. I wonder if the good Executor realizes exactly how big of a mistake he's making.

Then Q popped in and told me that unfortunately, they were moving far too slowly for his tastes, so he snapped his fingers and moved me to the trial – a full two weeks later.

"Mr. Pierce, you are here on the charge of theft of a Turian warship. How do you plead?" The judge asks sternly.

"I plead bullshit." I snorted. "You're really going to charge me for "stealing" a turian warship that _I_ had to take back from slavers?"

"Order!" The judge snapped, slamming his gavel down. "Mr. Pierce, you will show decorum for these proceedings or I will hold you in contempt."

"Oh fine. Innocent." I rolled my eyes, kicking my feet up on the table. "You've already wasted two weeks of my life, but what's two weeks after three months of slavery?"

"Mr. Pierce!" The judge snapped. "You _will_ respect these proceedings or I will summarily rule against you!"

I grinned savagely. "Go ahead. Rule against me then. Prove to the rest of the galaxy that Turians jump the gun all the time, just like you did at Shanxi and just like you did when those eight hundred slaves showed up in pirate freighters in the name of your _justice_." I sneered.

The crowd started getting louder and louder.

"Order! ORDER! Mr. Pierce! I find you in contempt! Get this scumbag out of here!"

As the bailiffs dragged me out of the courtroom and the judge desperately tried to regain control of the now out of control crowd, I chuckled darkly to myself.

They threw me back into the cell none too gently, muttering comments along similar lines to the judge's parting shot.

Not that it mattered. Within an hour, three separate lawyers showed up to offer their counsel _pro_ bono. Surprisingly, one of them was a Turian who found the whole ordeal completely sickening, and apologized for the general stupidity of the Executor and the judge.

I accepted it. Not all Turians are bad, after all. And to be fair, I did goad the Executor into doing something stupid. He's not bad, just uptight. The Turian Councilor on the other hand, is a moron. If he ever tries using those damned air quotes around me, I'll break his fingers off and shove them up is own ass.

The judge on the other hand, well, I have no idea if he knew anything else about the case other than the fact that I was on a stolen turian warship.

Then Garrus and Andrew dropped by.

"Pierce, I don't know if you're insane, stupid, or both." Garrus shook his head. "Are you crazy? Mouthing off to a judge like that?"

"Ah, Garrus, _mon frere_," I started, pausing briefly to note that I was starting to pick up on Q's mannerisms, "You and I both know that charge is nothing _but_ bullshit, and I could do no less but to call them out on it. Besides, the judge did exactly what I wanted."

"I'll say." Andrew complained. "We had a bitch of a time running crowd control."

"Excellent." I replied, using a stereotypical evil voice and drumming my fingers together.

"So...did you really take that place over by yourself?" Garrus asked, shaking his head.

"I had a little help." I admitted. "But the waiting was fucking torture by itself." I said darkly. "I had to wait for the right rapist to come along. Took three days. Almost raped a new arrival. An asari by the name Talia."

Garrus eyed me suspiciously. "Describe her."

"Approximately a hundred and seventy, asari commando training, and pretty damn good actor. Actress. Well, you get the idea." I shrugged. "I didn't exactly get a good look."

"Uh-huh." He muttered, nodding. "Continue."

"So, just to give you some context – the rock on which the station was on had four sectors, with two hundred slaves each and an assigned compliment of fifty guards in each sector. All us slaves had ankle bracelets fitted which doubled as shock bracelets and ankle bombs. Step one foot outside the slave area, and boom – your leg's turned to mulch. Or if a guard decides to be an asshole, boom, your leg's turned to mulch. And every so often, they'll come by and sample the goods for a little entertainment. Some liked rape, some liked torture."

Andrew winced. "Ouch."

"So, I follow the rapist in. He's just strapped her down to the table and puts a ball gag in her mouth. He's just busy looking, so I use a hot knife and stab him in the base of the brain to cauterize the wound so blood doesn't ruin the uniform. After I calm her down, I changed into the guy's uniform and unstrapped her from the table. But because those rooms weren't soundproof, I had to turn to her and ask-"

"Can you fake it for fifteen minutes?"

Garrus and Andrew turned around at the new arrival.

Talia grinned. "Hello, boys." She said, slowly sauntering over. "Pierce."

"Talia." I nodded. "How are things?"

"Well, you've stirred up the hornet's nest, as you humans would say. Press is demanding to know what the hell C-Sec is thinking trying to lay the charge of stealing a turian warship on you, especially when there's about eight hundred people willing to attest that you saved us." She said, amused. "Of course, having me vouch for you doesn't hurt."

Andrew turned back to me. "Let me get this straight." He said. "You asked the daughter of the commanding officer of the _Destiny Ascension _to _fake it_ for fifteen minutes?"

I blinked. "What? What!? WHAT!?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you – my mother's the CO of the biggest dreadnought in the Citadel Fleet." Talia added cheerfully. "She wants to meet you by the way."

"Kinda hard, considering C-Sec's still holding me." I pointed out. "And then there's the contempt to deal with."

"Not anymore." She grinned. "I imagine Executor Palin's getting an earful from the Council right now."

"By the way, which slaver group was it?" Garrus asked.

"The Syndicate." Talia replied. "Apparently, they're not as big as they thought they were."

"Damn, I knew I forgot something." I cursed. "Hey guys – when I get my omni-tool back, I've got some data for C-Sec."

"What kind of data?" Garrus asked.

"Oh, just their entire database." I shrugged nonchalantly.

Talia snickered.

"Damn, dude. That's cold." Andrew whistled. "Remind me to not fuck with you."

The guard manning the desk walked in. "Pierce, all charges have been dropped. Here's your stuff." He said, handing over my omni-tool and transporter buffer. "I'll need your thumbprint." He said, holding a datapad out. I pressed my thumb to it.

The officer wordlessly left quickly.

"Excellent." I grinned, tapping my omni-tool. "Here's a copy of everything in their database." I said, transferring the data to both Garrus and Andrew's omni-tools. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a slaver armory to unload." I grinned mischievously.

"Not without me, you're not." Talia reminded me. "Besides, I did promise I'd join your crew."

"Pretty sure the Turians will have taken back their ship." I pointed out.

"They did. But because of the whole public relations fiasco going on right now, they decided to pay you for your trouble after all. Mother's got your money."

"Why does she have it?"

"She wanted to make sure you came for dinner." She shrugged. "And we've got a few hours to kill. Wanna go someplace?"

"Yeah. I wanna go visit a guy I know. This way." I said, calling a cab to head down to the seedy underside again.

A short hop later, and I met with the old Krogan. After we chatted a bit about my more recent exploits and his approval at court appearance, we negotiated a price for all those crappy armor and Avengers. I came out ahead with eighty thousand credits at a thousand a pop. The omni-tools I picked up, I'd have to go through later.

With the eighty thousand, I decided to buy some armor. Middle of the market stuff, nothing too fancy. I had it painted a matte black.

Once that was done, I turned to Talia.

"Well, that's done. What now?"

"Well...I'm probably going to need more clothes." I admitted sheepishly, before I realized what I had said.

A shiver suddenly ran up my spine. My head slowly ratcheted to the side in brief horror. Talia suddenly grinned a predatory grin, and took my hand in hers.

"Shopping time!" She declared sing-songly.

...Crap.

This will not end well.

She tried, and failed. Like hell I'm wearing any of this new age bullshit. I'll stick to BDU's and boots thank you. And fuck the rest of you who think it's gone out of style, because style doesn't matter.

"I still don't understand why you didn't want to buy any of those shirts."

"They were _hideous_. I'd rather fight Borg with a titanium spork."

"Don't they have adaptable personal shields?" She asked.

I stopped midstep. Wait, what?

"You know what I'm talking about?"

"Of course. I'm well versed in archaic human entertainment."

"Don't let Q hear that." I warned.

She giggled. "Don't be silly. Q doesn't exist."

I had to work at keeping a straight face as Q popped in and made a bunch of funny gestures.

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure of that." I muttered.

"What was that?"

"You sure this is a good idea?" I asked.

"What, meeting my mother for dinner? She won't bite."

"That's not what I'm worried about." I rolled my eyes. "And you seem awfully calm about everything."

Talia's expression faltered momentarily. "Yeah...well, I try not to think about it."

I cursed momentarily. Way to go, idiot.

The Q-Tool decided to activate another training session, and said into my head "Parameters met for basic stealth. Bypassing. Activating advanced stealth mission."

The world paused, and I entered the white abyss again.

"Q? What's going on?"

"I'll be brief." He started, staring at me with an uncharacteristically serious expression. "There are two people onboard the Destiny Ascension who are heavily involved in the slaver trade. One of them is responsible for your abduction."

"Perfect. A target." I mused darkly.

"I thought you'd think that. Q has given you two more gifts to use – courtesy of that cake Q fed you earlier in the cell. They'll take some time before they activate, but by tomorrow, the necessary information will be unlocked."

I eyed him suspiciously. "There isn't a hidden agenda here, is there? Normally, your "missions" usually wind up with three or four hidden objectives."

He gave a brief smirk. "I could be. But I'm not the actual Q."

The white faded away back into reality, and Q's voice spoke once more, overlayed over another familiar voice. "Tactical options available."

I shook my head briefly as the return caused me to lose my balance momentarily.

"Hey, you okay?" She asked worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I said quickly, before looking down at the Q-Tool. Great. Now _it's_ joined the party.

Great.

"Maybe we should sit down until the shuttle comes." She suggested, maneuvering us over to an empty bench against a wall.

"I'm fine." I insisted.

She rolled her eyes. "What is it with you males and pretending to be strong? Sit down."

"If only to get you to leave it alone." I rolled my eyes, delving into the Q-Tool, looking for a way to "implant" both it and the transporter buffer into myself so I didn't have to worry about people being able to take them.

I paused. Of course, I'd need them to be undetectable as well. I wonder if it was possible to _merge_ the both of them into nanite forms.

I gave the order to the Q-Tool. It looks like worked – for all of three seconds, until my chest suddenly felt like my heart was trying to bust its way out of it from the inside and my limbs seized up.

And then there was that white abyss again.

"Oh come now, mon _frere_ – I thought you were smarter than that. You can't simply just meld those two together, although I do appreciate your efforts to make sure you can't lose either of them again. And while I admit it might be funny to watch your bumbling attempts to find a way for both of them to work, I'll simply save you the trouble so you can get on with it."

The white faded away, and I'm sitting on the bench again, just before I pressed the button.

Only now I didn't have to. I suddenly understood how to "call" for both the Q-Tool and my equipped weapons.

"Neat." I said suddenly.

"Not really. Never seen a shuttle before?"

"Uh...not really." I stammered.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go!"

Here we go, I guess.

It suddenly occurs to me that I probably should have bought a pistol and a knife – just in case.

Crap. I hope I don't have to fight my way off the _Destiny Ascension._


	3. First (Cold) Blood

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, Mass Effect, or the numerous things I make reference to obviously.

Author's Note: Yes, I realize some of the story doesn't make any sense - but please keep in mind it's being written in first person, and Pierce isn't exactly mentally stable. Additionally, flames will be doused. If I feel like it.

Additional Notes: Sorry this took so long - I had computer issues.

* * *

The _Destiny Ascension _– pride of the Citadel fleet. The biggest dreadnought ever constructed with the most powerful guns and shields the Asari can equip her with.

Personally, I find the notion insulting. I believe it was in another Mass Effect story I read where someone pointed out the glaring fact that the naval warfare doctrine of the 22nd century is decidedly early World War 2, in that there isn't a single bloody carrier out there.

The SSV Normandy SR-2 would be the first quasi-departure from that doctrine, combining cruiser firepower with frigate mobility and a massive drive core. In sheer firepower, it'd lose out to most dreadnoughts, but with a good captain at the helm, she could probably fight one to a standstill – or even destroy one. Well, at least once she's been upgraded all the way.

The problem however, still lied in power generation. Because the use of anti-matter is limited to antiproton drives for military ships, it is effectively being wasted as regular fuel. Not that it matters, antiprotons are the most basic form of antimatter.

While a significant step, it is not powerful enough for use as a power source – which is what deuterium is for.

The problem is anti-deuterium. While it is used widely everywhere on starships in the Federation, there is next to no indication as to how it is created. Or harvested.

I mean, I know lightning was theorized to be a natural source of antimatter back in 2013 and that CERN had managed to up its antimatter containment to a whopping sixteen minutes from a few seconds, but if we're going to try and create an antimatter reactor for a starship, can we actually do it in a few years?

I hope those scientists kept working on it.

I looked down at my Q-Tool. Wait. I wonder. If I asked this thing to go part the extranet and find out what happened to them, could it do it?

_Yes, I can, you bi-pedal idiot._

I recoiled briefly before remembering what Q gave me to work with.

_And another thing – you could've ended the entire slaver camp so much faster if you simply used ME to take over all their systems!  
_

...Damn, I never thought of that. Whatever. Go find what happened to the CERN scientists, then.

"Credit for your thoughts?" Talia asked, interrupting my argument with myself.

I smiled briefly. "Don't think the thoughts of an insane man are worth that much."

"I wouldn't be so harsh – you got all of us out alive, didn't you?"

"I got lucky." I admitted. The only reason that happened was because I had Q looking out for me. "It was my first time staging a breakout."

She laughed hard at that. "You're kidding, right? I'll bet you're some kind of super-soldier."

My expression didn't change. Her laughter slowly died down. "You're serious."

I nodded slowly.

"...Damn." She said, surprised. "I didn't think you humans had that kind of combat prowess. You ever consider joining the military?"

"Funny you should point that out. The Alliance came to me with an offer while I was in jail. All I had to was to join them and they'd spring me."

"What'd you do?" She asked.

"Said no. They're a poorly equipped fighting force if they give their N7's crappy armor and shitty weapons."

"You know, usually people don't disparage their species' military." She mused.

"Yeah well, if they give their most valued operatives shitty equipment, I can only imagine the kind of crap they give everyone else." I snorted. "Avenger rifles would probably find a better calling as high powered seasoning tools in the kitchen."

"I don't think I've ever heard anyone insult the Avenger series in such a colorful manner." She smiled.

"Sure you still want to follow me?" I asked.

"Like I said – I want to see the reasons behind your supposed insanity." She leaned in, whispering. "We're here. Try not to anger Mother."

"I wouldn't dream of it." I replied reassuringly. Look, Q or not, I'm not going to piss off the CO of a ship _that_ big. At least, not yet. Not without compression phaser rifle and photon grenades.

The shuttle door opened, and we climbed out.

"Talia." An asari, whom I could only guess was her mother, greeted her warmly. "Welcome back. Is this the human you spoke of?"

Talia nodded. "Mother, allow me to introduce Pierce. He is the human who rescued all eight hundred of us. Pierce, this is my mother, Matriarch Lidanya."

"M'am." I nodded politely.

"So, this is the human who has Palin swearing up a storm and the media in a frenzy." She said apprehensively, eyeing me up and down. "I hope you realize the kind of trouble you've caused for everyone with your court case."

I nodded. "I was planning on it." I said plainly.

"Don't tell me." She said, annoyed. "You're another one of those humans who thinks the Turians should be destroyed."

"No, I think the Turians need to learn how to use that sloshy thing in their heads called a brain." I said. "They were in the wrong during the First Contact War, bottom line. Anyone else who thinks otherwise is about as wrong as C-Sec."

"And what's wrong with C-Sec?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Same thing that was wrong with the Turians during the First Contact War – they acted without thinking. If Palin had any brains, he would've thanked us for taking down a slaver operation and I would've handed over all the intelligence I had on them. Instead, the idiot tried to threaten me with charges just because the ship we came in on was marked stolen and I had a file once. I was shot at once down in the Wards and I killed my attacker."

"That's a bit arrogant of you to say." Lidanya frowned.

"Considering I was on the Citadel when I was taken and C-Sec failed horribly to do their job, I'm entitled. When Palin unfucks himself and pulls that big ass turian dick out of his ass, I might reconsider."

"Well, you certainly are a...colorful individual." Lidayna commented. "Are you sure he's not lying?"

"I'm pretty damn sure, he's not." She snapped. "I was _there_, remember?"

Lidanya sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just that I find it hard to believe this human did what you said he did. According to his file, he was a regular civilian just a few months ago!"

"What can I say, I learn fast." I deadpanned.

Oh right. There was still the issue of those two Asari onboard who were in with the slaver trade. I'll think of something. I do after all, still have a bunch of those ankle bombs.

...wait. Kasumi once used a sub-dermal cloak. Maybe I should look into getting one.

_Don't fret, mon frere. You'll get your chance._

"Well, I've prepared the guest quarters for you, Mr. Pierce. I hope you'll find them to your liking."

"As long as it has a bed and hot running water, I'm set." I replied, shuddering.

"Here they are. I suggest you clean up – dinner will be ready in half an hour. Talia will show you the way." Lidanya explained before walking away.

"Oh goodie. My first hot shower in three and a half months." I grinned.

"Wait, really?" Talia frowned.

"Well, first real hot shower I'll be able to enjoy." I admitted. "See you in half an hour."

I wasted a good twenty five minutes standing under the hot shower, thinking back to everything I've done so far.

I guess it's true what they say – after the first, it gets easier.

And...oddly enough, my mind seems to be blank other than three thoughts – how to kill those two slaving bastards, whether or not to kill everyone that works for them, and _then_ kill those slaving bastards, _and_, if I going to die during dinner.

_Search completed. CERN scientists located in Alliance black site on Phobos._

Phobos? Huh. At least that'll make for a great escape. Doo-doo, doo doot doot doo doo doo~

I (reluctantly) left the comfort of the hot shower, changed into the BDU, t-shirt and boot combo I've stuck with for the last two centuries (That was a joke) and brought up the data the Q-Tool showed me.

The facility was on Phobos, under Alliance control. They were guarded both by an N7 task force in the facility and the 1st Fleet, whose job was to safeguard the Sol System. In short, getting in wasn't the issue – getting out was.

And then there was the issue of where to go after that. Antimatter research, being banned, would require something "off the grid", so to speak. It would have to be in territory previously unexplored, which should be easy – if I could get my hands on a ship with an efficient enough warp drive.

Then, I'd need a base of operations – preferably in an asteroid field or on a planet with the proper resources, either on the planet itself or nearby, supplies, living quarters, etc.

Problem is, I have no way of knowing what the proper minerals were, because as far as I know, there was no mention of them.

On the other hand, they aren't exactly advanced enough to find them, let alone use them. Tritanium ore gave the Federation quite some trouble until the late 24th Century if memory serves, anyway.

I smacked myself in the forehead. I keep forgetting what Q told me about this omni-tool he gave me. Sheesh.

I checked the results of the scan I just asked it to run, and my eyebrows shot up faster than my hopes did – because there's apparently large quantities of everything we need scattered all around the galaxy.

Well...might as well start early. Of all the systems in the entire Milky Way, over ten thousand of them have the necessary materials. Of those, less than a _tenth_ of them were near any known relays. Of that tenth, they were unevenly split between the Veil, Citadel, Terminus and unexplored space (due to relays being taken off line).

There was an idea. Reactivate a mass relay for the sole purpose of building a secret base. It'd make transit easier. In that particular respect, the relays have warp travel beat in pure speed since the major time suck is in regular space travel due to current FTL cores having very limited range on account of fuel limitations.

Assuming the Q-Tool has the necessary information for us to actually attempt reactivation of a mass relay (_I do, you simpering idiot!)_, we _could_ reactivate one of the secondary relays in the dark part of the network.

Of course, if we could cloak the damn the thing, that'd be even better – but that's a bit out of reach at the moment.

Hm. I made a mental note to look into that.

Well, the Geth could be of big help.

Hm. There's a thought. Attempt to jump-start the peace process between the Quarians and the Geth.

I refocused my thoughts. There were a total of five suitable scenarios spread across the Veil, Citadel and Terminus space.

I _could_ do it in Citadel space, but as funny as it would be to rub that in the Council's face years later during the invasion, it'd make procurement of supplies(in case) more difficult. The Terminus Systems on the other hand, would be easier to procure supplies – but not the safest. Then again, it being the Terminus Systems, we could easily kill whatever dumb asswipe decides to pick a fight.

And the Perseus Veil. It would certainly speed build times since the Geth are cybernetic beings, but the difficulty with them lay in credibility afterwards, given how fearful and close-minded some of these Citadel races could be.

And _then_ even after all that, there were things that needed to be done – like figuring out _how_ to build a base in the system without needing repeated trips out of the system for supplies, since building a shipyard and a base to house everyone would be very difficult.

Replication technology could speed things significantly in that respect.

Of course, all that is useless without a ship and a crew – and so far, the only one I've heard from in that regard is Talia.

...Actually, there's one thing that's been bothering me about asari physiology.

"You know, I'm pretty sure it's rude in both of our cultures to be late for dinner." Talia teased, walking in. "I've been standing here for the last ten minutes and you didn't even notice I was here. What's got you so out of it?" She asked curiously, leaning in, folding her hands behind her back.

I looked up and asked immediately "Are all asari the same cup size and increase as you get older, or are they like a genetic lottery?"

Talia sweatdropped. "_That's_ what you've been hung up on? Tits?"

"Well, actually, I was trying to figure out a basic plan for breaking into an Alliance black site to jailbreak some scientists, then reactivating a secondary relay off the grid for a base, and whether or not to head to the Perseus Veil to ask the Geth for help." I admitted.

Talia straightened up and raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're alright? Maybe you should go see a counselor or something, because nobody in their right mind would even _mention_ that if that's what they were really doing."

"Ah, but there's the beauty of it, you see." I said, standing up, swaying slightly in position. "It's a plan that's so outrageous for one person to do, the likelihood of it ever being taken seriously is very, very slim. The materials _alone_ to build a base, a shipyard and research facilities on a planet are immense, let alone the difficulty of ferrying all those supplies to and from the market."

"So...you're just theorizing?" She asked, unsure of what my actual intentions are.

"I suppose you could say that." I nodded. "Well then, shall we go?"

Talia smiled and shook her head. "This way." She left the room, gesturing for me to follow. I caught up with her in the hallway, walking alongside her. "So why the sudden interest in asari breasts?"

"Stray thought." I shrugged. "I don't think I've seen much variance from one asari to another in terms of the chest region, save for certain asari." I paused. "Or perhaps it's an evolution thing."

Talia raised an eyebrow. "What?" She asked, completely confused.

"Well, think about it – the asari are famed for their culture, their long life spans, attractive physique and the fact that they have very strong biotic abilities, which is why asari commandos are typically feared throughout the galaxy. If asari history has a long history of fighting, then it follows that the fact the asari fought often factors into the breast size." I explained, suddenly aware of how utterly ridiculous the current situation was.

Here I am, explaining to the daughter of the CO of one of the most dangerous warships in the Citadel fleet, walking through an entire ship crewed by asari discussing asari breast size.

Oddly enough, Talia started snickering as we entered the elevator. "Interesting theory."

I shrugged. "Not really. Most would call it stupid."

The doors closed.

"It's partially a genetic lottery and partially related to our long lives." She lectured. "We don't start really developing until we're a hundred and eighty, typically. That can be accelerated by any number of reasons, depending on how...active they've been. Here's a secret though." She admitted, beckoning me with her finger to come closer.

I leaned in.

"Almost all of us typically wear clothing with some form of breast binding." She whispered conspiratorially. "It's kind of hard to fight effectively with all that extra weight bouncing around freely."

"So I wasn't completely wrong." I exclaimed. "Not bad."

"Not bad indeed." She nodded. "But for that, you owe me another date."

I raised an eyebrow. "Another...date?" I asked.

"Why not?" She shrugged. "My last...uh, girlfriend, I believe the term is, was a bit of a jerk."

You know how in all those anime's where whenever a male or female character sees something that falls in line with their perverted tastes, there's usually a comedic onset of a bloody nose? If this was an anime, I'm pretty sure that would've happened right then.

"Girlfriend?" I repeated, operating on autopilot.

"To make a long story short, we weren't...compatible." She admitted, pausing. "We argued and broke up – and that night, I went to Flux and decided to have a couple." She said somberly, a wavering smile on her face. "Next thing I know, I'm in a slaver camp."

"Wait." I said suddenly, frowning. "What's her name?" I asked.

"Alesia, I think." She said hesitantly. "Alesia-"

"Selvos?" I asked, trying to keep my voice passive. That name was on my target list for being one of the two runners of slave traffic on the Citadel. Her name was featured rather prominently in the Syndicate's files.

She, along with several others facilitated _all_ slave traffic off the Citadel. The list of everyone involved was extensive, but on the Citadel – I was only after select targets. Most notably, those that worked in Traffic Control, C-Sec and in the CDF.

Of course, the trick in that was figuring out how to kill them all in one fell swoop.

An evil grin graced my face. I suppose I should take a page right outta _All Saints Day_ – off the lower level guys until the upper level guys get tired and have a meeting to discuss measures...and then off them all at one.

But first...

"Yeah. How'd you know?" She asked strangely.

"Would you believe lucky guess?" I smiled disingenuously.

She gave another weak smile. Yeah...I wouldn't have bought that either.

"Maybe I should meet her one of these days. You know – find out what _not_ to do." I lied smoothly.

Wait, where the hell did that come from?

_From me, obviously. Your skill was so pathetic, I couldn't help but feel bad. What you have in audacity in the face of weapons fire you lack severely in romance. Almost twenty five and still a virgin? For shame._

Oi! Quit poking ahead in my head!

_It's not my fault. If you had gone ahead and made things more interesting, I wouldn't be resorting to meddling around in your head._

"You've already crossed the line a few times." She reminded me.

"Only due to circumstances." I was quick to reply.

"Oh, I wasn't referring to that." She shook her head. "Word of advice – don't talk about boobs in front of mother."

"What do you take me for, an idiot?" I complained, annoyed.

"Considering I've yet to be able to divine how your mind works and all the crazy things I've heard you say to date, no, I don't think you're an idiot." She started.

"Thank you."

"Whether or not I should have you committed is entirely a different issue. All I'd have to do is tell mother." She said with a straight face, the doors opening. "Hello, mother. I've found our wayward guest."

"I apologize for being late, Matriach." I apologized respectfully. "The shower didn't want to let go."

"Understandable." She nodded briefly. "Please, sit. I've a great deal of questions." She said, gesturing to the seat next to her.

So I sat down. "Such as?"

"I've been looking over your file to get a feel for you before this dinner of ours." She started, intertwining her hands in front of her face. "Your record is remarkably...unremarkable up until a few months ago."

"What can I say? I used to be a shut-in." I admitted. "Going out wasn't exactly my thing. And then one day, I stepped out and _bam_. Makes me wish I never left my room." I sighed.

"Interesting." She replied, one eyebrow raised. "Talia tells me you were responsible for her return."

"As much as I'd like to take credit, your daughter was lucky." I admitted reluctantly. "Three days before I freed her, I was waiting for the right slaver to drop by for "sampling"."

"Sampling?" She asked, frowning. Talia looked decidedly uncomfortable, sipping at her drink repeatedly. "Ah. I see." She said distastefully. "I hope they were...dealt with."

"Only shot a few. The rest of them are still floating around in metal boxes if they've managed to survive until now." She looked confused. "I triggered a fire drill and locked them in their compartments and jettisoned them."

"Officially, I have to express my disdain at your vigilantism, even if it was in the Terminus Systems. However, as a mother...good riddance." She grumbled.

"Can we talk about something else?" Talia asked suddenly.

"Oh, yes. Sorry, dear." Lidanya apologized.

The dinner was very nice – calamari, pasta alfredo, breadsticks, asari wine. I politely declined since alcohol was the _main_ reason I'm here now, but she poured me a glass anyway.

The conversation topics were decidedly mundane, though it was abundantly clear that Talia wasn't completely over it yet.

So, when she left the table to go grab another bottle of wine, I was unprepared for what came next.

"Tell me, Mr. Pierce – what are your plans for the future?" She asked curiously.

"Get a ship, put a crew together, and get some shit done."

"Are you going to go after the slavers?"

"No, I'm going to stand back and let Citadel Security do their jobs." I said sarcastically. "Fuck yes, I'm going after the slavers."

She nodded, poking at a leftover piece of shrimp on her plate. "I find it a bit suspicious that the Council's Spectres failed to do what a civilian managed." She started. "Don't misunderstand me – I'm very grateful to you for returning my daughter to me."

"I'd be very suspicious if you didn't." I said dryly. "As for the Council Spectres, my personal opinion is that it's more political than actual skill."

"You seem very sure of yourself for a civilian."

"An opinion."

She eyed me intensely before downing the remainder of the wine in her glass, before swirling the empty glass around in her hand. A few seconds later, Talia walked in with a new bottle of wine, and she suddenly asked, "So, what are your intentions with regards to my daughter?"

"What?" I asked flatly.

"Moooom!" Talia pouted, embarassed.

"I'm your mother – and I have a right to know. Besides, he did ask you to fake it for fifteen minutes."

"He didn't mean anything by that, mom." Talia protested.

"But you know as well as I do that asking for something like that is something prospective mates ask for. Does he intend to ask for your hand in marriage?"

Had I been thinking straight, I would've remembered that the Consort frequently lends her advice to her clients and helps them using whatever means she cans, which sometimes includes sex. But instead, I drank the asari wine and fell for what was a very obvious joke.-

Allow me to explain in great detail why this is a very, very bad idea – I am a _total_ lightweight. I have problems with half a bottle of 5% beer. Drinking an entire bottle puts me to sleep in under ten minutes because it goes straight to my head.

Asari wines run anywhere from 8% to 20%. This particular one was around 16%, and I downed the whole glass at once.

The combination of my social inadequacies in dealing with romantic situations, members of the opposite sex and/or alien species entirely made up of what resembles the opposite sex, my lack of catching the obvious joke and my idiotic mistake of drinking wine meant I passed out shortly afterwards. The only good thing was that it wasn't into the plate.

The first thing I realize is that I'm in the guest quarters again. The lights are dimmed, and on end table right next to the bed are some pills and a glass of water – presumably for the hangover.

I scanned them with the Q-Tool just in case. They were. I downed them and returned back to bed, my head still pounding.

...Okay, that's bad. Normally, it's just my head that's beating – but this time, it feels like it's happening to both my heart _and_ head.

Hang on a second.

My eyes opened immediately, my head slowly turning to the _other_ occupant in the room. Then Q decided to pop in.

"Q. This is not a good time." I whispered. He gave one of those trademark Q shit eating grins and took a snapshot with a holo-imager, before popping out.

I closed my eyes and tried to back to sleep.

...That's not working. Damn it.

The door hissed open.

I managed to wrench myself free from whoever was in my bed's grasp and tried to take cover behind the bed whilst materializing the TR-116.

I only succeeded in rolling off the bed unceremoniously in a heap.

"That was unnecessary." Came the amused voice of Matriarch Lidanya.

"Sorry. Force of habit." I groaned, forcing myself to my feet. "What brings you by?"

She looked at the bed before looking at me again.

"Oh. Right." I paused. "Wait, that's Talia? What happened?"

"Not in here." She said quietly. "Come with me."

I nodded, setting the Q-Tool to send me an alarm if anyone else walked in.

We walked a short distance into another room, a lounge. It was empty.

"She couldn't sleep." She said finally, looking out of the observation window. "Since she got back, she's been suffering nightmares."

"I figured." I said. "Betrayal is something not easily forgiven."

"She's told you, then." She said, mildly surprised.

I nodded grimly. "Talia told me they used to be together."

"Are you going to do something about it?" She asked.

I shook my head. "Not yet." I said evenly.

My Q-Tool beeped. Somebody was entering the guest quarters.

"Or not. This way." I said immediately, materializing the TR 116 in my hands, returning to the guest quarters.

"How did you-where did you get that gun?" She demanded, following after me, pistol drawn.

"Trade secret." I said quickly, re-entering the room.

The lights were on, Talia was on the floor covering herself with the covers, traumatized, and the asari I could only presume was Alesia standing over her with a gun.

"You!" She hissed.

"Me." I said coldly. "I owe you for three month vacation you gave me."

"You have no idea who you're fucking with." She laughed, deranged. "Back off, or I shoot her."

Rolling my eyes, I aimed for her trigger finger and fired, ruining her hand and weapon. I followed that up by slamming the butt of the rifle against Alesia's face, knocking her down and out.

"I need an airlock and everything in her quarters, untouched." I said, turning to the Matriarch.

"You'll have it." She growled. "And this never happened."

Five minutes later, we're standing in an empty airlock – just Alesia and me.

She eventually began to regain consciousness – and I made preparations for the interrogation.

"I suppose this is would be a good time to explain exactly what it is I gave you in that cake." Q said, popping in.

"Hello, Q. Want a show? I'm about to give her a taste of what it was like in the camp." I said, laying out the five bracelet bombs.

"As much as I enjoy brutality as the next person, this kind doesn't suit you. I hope for your sake this is only a bluff."

"The bombs? Maybe. I was planning on venting her or killing her either way." I admitted.

"So messy." He said disapprovingly, snapping his fingers. "Use the gift I gave you instead. It'll be more efficient."

My head suddenly started to hurt massively again, blood pounding through the arteries. The only thing I could hear were my blood vessels pumping as I gripped my head in a desperate attempt to lessen the pain.

And suddenly, it disappeared – and I knew things I didn't before.

"Fascinating." I said, breathing heavily.

"Well? Go on." He urged, gesturing to Alesia.

I walked hesitantly towards her, my right hand moving automatically to her face, pressing my thumb, index and middle finger on her temple, cheek and chin, the rest on her forehead.

"_GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"_ Alesia's voice roared in my mind.

I grit my teeth, pushing back instinctively.

I don't know how to explain the rest of what happened. The only thing I know is that I suddenly had what I wanted from her, and that I suddenly felt very tired.

I backed away from her quickly, breathing heavily.

"Congratulations, mon _frere_. You've just completed your first Vulcan mind meld. Use it well." Q popped out.

I raised the TR 116 and leveled it at her sleeping form, my finger slowly pressing back on the trigger.

And then my hand started shaking.

It was one thing to kill armed guards and someone trying to kill you – it's entirely different when they're already unconscious and helpless.

And somehow, I found myself in the very position I criticized the most of nearly all anti-heroes who are given a chance to eliminate their worst arch –enemy once and for all or some minion that would later come back and bite them in the ass.

So, I delved into her memories, trying to decide whether or not I should kill her right here, right now.

A few seconds later, the rifle snapped up and I pulled the trigger.

"Is she dead?" Lidanya asked.

I nodded shakily. "I think..." I said, my voice squeaking. I paused, and swallowed the lump in my throat. "I think..."I repeated slowly..."I need a drink."


End file.
